


Is This Weird? Ficlet Collection

by Makizushi



Series: Is This Weird? [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discussion of Pedophilia, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Other, POV switch, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub, Quadrant Confusion, Sloppy Makeouts, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Prostitution, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:23:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makizushi/pseuds/Makizushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets set in the "Is This Weird?" universe. Individual titles, summaries, ratings, warnings, and tags for each story at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asking For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave wakes up in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **No Archive Warnings Apply** , Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, PTSD, Snuggles, Post-Sburb/Sgrub

You start awake and feel him move behind you, his arms wrapping around you. Your chest goes tight and your breathing shallow, but you push back against him like you know you’re supposed to. He’s hard, you can feel him hard against your ass and of course he is, why else would he have crawled in bed with you?

You hear something, and it doesn’t quite make sense, but his hand rubs lazily against your stomach and chest. That makes sense. That’s what you’re for. You try to relax, try to get into it in case he feels like making you come. His breath is hot on the back of your neck and that makes you shiver.

You wait.

He stopped moving, he’s just breathing on you quietly without pulling off your clothes or biting marks into your skin. It makes you jittery, anxious. It’s better when things are predictable, when he just takes you instead of playing mind games. You expect him to slide your boxers down any moment, to push his cock between your thighs or in your ass. You hope he does it soon, you hope he’s not too rough, you hope he doesn’t insist on making you come.

The worst thing is when you have to participate. It’s humiliating, it makes you feel disgusting. Like a crusty tissue that wanted it. He’s not moving though and it’s getting more and more difficult for you to hold your composure. What does he want? Does he want you to ask for it? To take the initiative in getting him off? Is he just messing with you to see what you’ll do?

You close your eyes even more tightly and tentatively move against him, rustling the sheets in your pitch black room. His cock feels good against your ass and that makes you nauseous. He finally moves again, nuzzling the back of your neck. You’re practically ready to beg for it, _‘Fuck me, please fuck me. Use me, let me be good at something, let me be done so I can sleep.’_

The hand on you grips your shirt and the body behind you shifts, pushes against you. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, you want this, you want it to be done. You open your mouth to say so, fuck dignity, but he speaks first.

“Mmh, Dave.”

You freeze. The sleep heavy fog in your brain finally clears and _oh fuck_.

“John?”

Your voice is so quiet it’s hardly a whisper, more of an exhale. Tears sting your eyes and you start to shake, the awful stabbing anxiety draining away to leave a dizzyingly huge feeling you can’t describe.

John pets you for a few seconds before he seems to come awake too. You realize he can feel you being ridiculous a moment too late.

“Dave are you okay?”

You know his first instinct is to hold you, and you love that, but you’re _so disgusting,_ you thought he was _Bro_ , you shouldn’t be anywhere _near_ -

He lets go of you, shifts away on the bed, and the crawling feeling all over your skin diminishes significantly. You didn’t even have to ask but it still comes pouring out of you like pus. “ _Please, I’m sorry, please don’t_ _touch me, I’m sorry_.” It’s an equally humiliating kind of begging, but it leaves you feeling light headed and empty, like the relief you feel after throwing up.

John is still there, muttering soothing things at you and trying to figure out what’s wrong. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Did you have a bad dream? Do you need more space? Shhh, it’s okay.”

You can’t stand for him to be behind you anymore so you roll over, but find you can’t bear to face him either. You don’t want him to leave you here alone though, you don’t know what you want. He very slowly puts one of his hands near your balled up fist and you shudder in anticipation, but he doesn’t touch you. He _wants_ to touch you, he wants to but he _won’t_ , not until you ask and that’s amazing.

You slip your hand under his and try to breathe with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	2. Begging For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and John spend the night at Dirk's apartment after a very difficult day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **No Archive Warnings Apply** , Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, PTSD, Nightmares, Sleepy Makeouts, Snuggles, Internalized Victim Blaming, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
> 
> Loosely connected to a RP involving a mash-up of my "Is This Weird?" 'verse and KathGaele's ["Tight Pants and Maximum Angst"](http://archiveofourown.org/series/357800) 'verse. [The RP log can be found here](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com/post/134402553638/oh-shit-theres-two-of-them-rpdocx) but reading it is not necessary for understanding the ficlet.

You startle awake from dreams of betrayal.

_You were on the couch again in a creepy mash-up of Dirk and Bro’s apartments. They were already similar enough in reality to leave you disoriented and your eyes darted around the room with growing dread. Hal and Dirk were sitting on either side of you, and you remember them holding you and comforting you at some point. Telling you over and over again that you were safe. You made a decision to remain seated between them, so what happened next was your fault entirely._

_They were both a little close for comfort, closer than you realized when you decided to stay. Hal ran his fingers along the line of your jaw, turning your head toward him and tilting it up. His eyes were hidden behind shades, maybe he didn’t even have eyes, maybe neither of them did, but you knew that he was looking at Dirk instead of you. You knew because when he did glance down at you, he licked his lips like you were a meal he was anticipating._

_Horror shot down your spine as you realized you’d made a grave error. You flinched away from him, but wound up pressed back against Dirk. That contact froze you, tied you to your spot, and when Hal reached for you again you didn’t struggle. He hardly needed to touch you to guide your mouth to his. If you really didn’t want this you’d just stand up and leave; you’d fight and cry and kick and scream only that never worked in the past so why make it worse? This was how you consoled yourself for being a slut when Hal’s tongue pushed into your mouth. He tasted like Bro. It felt like he was trying to drink your soul from your throat and did androids have souls? Maybe he needed yours to be truly alive._

_Hal broke the kiss and pushed you gently away from him. Maybe you’d messed up, maybe he’d changed his mind, maybe it had been a joke, but then Dirk was kissing the back and side of your neck with his lips and tongue and lightly biting teeth. You were being passed back and forth, like cheap booze straight out of the bottle. A whine escaped your throat and instead of sounding frightened it sounded disgustingly needy to your ears. You were turned toward Dirk, you didn’t know by who’s hands, and he kissed you too. The smell and taste of Bro and blood and rot flooded your mouth. He pulled back and there was a red line across his neck; impossibly fine and seeping blood slowly like a cut so sharp it forgot to bleed at first. They were going to pull your soul out of you and share it between themselves; the already dead and the never alive._

_You started to shake your head minutely and hyperventilate. Blood and bodies triggered your stupid fucking 'Nam flashbacks and you couldn’t be here, you couldn’t help them even if you wanted to. Dirk shushed you and his lips were red. All of their hands started pulling at your clothes and weren’t there too many? How many people were touching you, exactly? You stopped shaking your head ‘no’ but you did start crying. Why did part of you think that should have mattered?_

_After your shirt was rucked up and your pants had been pulled down to bunch around your thighs Hal pulled you to him and turned you to face Dirk. It felt like you were being presented to him for approval, like a gift. Dirk smiled and his teeth were coated in blood. Pale fingertips brushed warm tears from your cheeks and the hand came away red and sticky. The same hand smeared across your lips and forced your mouth open. The horrifically familiar taste combination blood and jizz flowed into you mouth, and when did you get come on your face again?_

_Fingers dug into the back of your neck and you were shoved down and out of the way so that Dirk and Hal could kiss. The smell of Death bloomed between them, radiating from their greedy, blood dripping mouths. Your head was pushed into Dirk’s lap, your ass pulled into Hal’s and you were resigned to die here; to rot between them, with them, and you knew that **this** was forever. They pulled your legs apart and pried your mouth open but it was the small flickering ball of warmth in your chest you feared for; you closed your hands over it protectively. You wanted to beg them to wreck your body but leave your heart, let you keep your soul. Maybe if you were good-  
_

You are being shaken and you don’t know why; you’re being good for them, they don’t need to hurt you. You whimper and brace for worse but it doesn’t come. There is a noise and that noise resolves into your name and you startle awake with John’s arm’s around you. He’s looking at you with sleepy worry and concern. Groping behind you does not turn up a handful of Karkat and you nearly tip yourself off the edge of the bed on accident, fumbling around after someone who isn’t there. The dim room resolves around you and it’s jarringly different from what you expect. The previous day comes flooding back and you are awash with misery and shame.

“You seemed like you were having a bad dream.” John brushes sweaty hair out of your eyes and you calm a bit at the contact. The taste of blood lingers in your mouth and you’re half temped to go rinse it out. Maybe have a shower. Or 4 showers. It doesn’t feel safe being naked here because even though you’re sure no one is going to hurt you, deep down, at a fundamental level, you know someone always does. You hate that you feel that way because everyone has been unflaggingly kind to you, and you have done nothing to deserve it.

John idly preens your hair until it’s almost dry. He’s sleepy and lovely and _good_ in a way that cuts right through you. The idea of kissing him with the memory of blood and spunk on your lips is foul, but you need something else, something better on your tongue. He’s already close enough that it doesn’t take much to nuzzle forward, brush your nose against his nose, bump your forehead against his forehead, press your lips against his lips. He hums and you shiver, feeling the heady rush of being _wanted_ course through you. Your fingertips tentatively brush his arm; you’re still getting used to initiating contact.

John smiles against your lips and he’s so warm and solid. Your eyes flutter shut and you focus on feeling his lower lip between yours, on his breath against your face. His taste bleeds into your mouth, into your nose, into your _brain_ so that you feel suffused with him. Your mouths move against each other slowly, pressing hard and then drawing back to barely touching. Breathing each other. A hungry ‘mmf’ escapes his mouth and you whine quietly in response. You try a tiny, careful lick and then all at once his teeth are in your lip, his tongue is in your mouth, and his hand is in your hair. A shudder takes your body and you press yourself against him, curling into the shelter of his arms and shoulders.

His kisses reach a level of intensity you weren’t expecting at all. The more you press forward the more he cants his hips back and you realize he’s hard already and trying not to pressure you. You’re of two minds about that; the hungry way he’s kissing you is sparking memories from your dream back to life in ways that are truly unpleasant. But him wanting you so desperately eases a knot of anxiety that built in your chest last night. Everyone has been so kind to you, and what have you done except cause scene after scene? You’ve done nothing to earn them. But you can do this (and maybe if you are good enough the kindness will keep happening.)

John wiggles like an excited, frustrated puppy and he’s clearly holding himself back. You open your mouth and his tongue moves in you slowly; pushing and pulling back in the most suggestive way. Your hand finds the curve of his waist and it fits perfectly. When you move against him he moans helplessly into your mouth and for just a moment you actually feel powerful. Reckless and flushed, you roll onto your back and tug him on top of you. His mouth never leaves yours and one of his legs slots between yours like you’ve done this hundreds of times (you’ve never done this before, you’ve never willingly lain on your back for them, for _anyone_ ).

John seems to _really_ like this and the response from your own body is surprising and kind of scary. Shivers run down your spine, the visceral knowledge that you are _in danger_ made physical, and that sends you floating and almost out of your head, but sudden spikes of arousal bring you back. Tiny hooks catch and pull at you; the smell of John’s breath, a specific, smooth patch of his skin under your fingertips, the visual of him surrounding you protectively, the ache of imagining him in you and finding yourself empty. It’s incredibly jarring; the moment in between being out of and being present in your body is so intense it’s almost painful. At this point, more than anything, you want grounding. You make small, quiet pleas with your fingers and your hips, begging him to hold you down and take you, make you solid and real.

It only hits you that you’re hardly breathing when John pulls back from you and puts his hand on your chest in concern. Nearly silent, breathless begging pours out of your mouth. “No, please, I want it, please don’t stop. John, god, fuck, _please_.”

He’s hardly touching you anymore, you fucked it up _. Worthless whore, useless trash_. Your desperation not only makes you ugly but also less capable of breathing. You can’t even beg him to fuck you, you just shake your head and clutch at him uselessly, knowing that he’s leaving your pathetic ass for real this time.

Instead of leaving, however, John shifts so that he’s laying on his side next to you, arms around you and legs tangled with yours. His breathing is slow and deep, he’s saying he wants you to breathe with him, just that right now, nothing else, and you try. He holds you while you ground yourself and, again, you’re so grateful and so unworthy. You kiss him softly, a question, and he shakes his head so that his lips drag over yours. It hurts, and you curl towards him on your side, your newly caught breath hitching ever so slightly.

John’s voice is rough and whispery. “Shhh, Dave, what’s wrong?” He cards his fingers through your sleep mussed hair.

You’re not actually crying, thank god, but it’s still difficult to make your voice work. It’s also… things you have a hard time saying. Breathing it into the small space between you is only just possible. “You wanted me. I messed it up.”

John frowns, unhappy noises escaping his throat while he thinks. “I was really aggressive, and I thought I might be overwhelming you but… did you want to stop even before I-”

You shake your head and wrap an arm around him. “No. No no no.” Tension you hadn’t even realized he was holding leaves John's shoulders. “It feels so good, being wanted. Like I can make myself worth-” Fuck. You didn’t mean to say that. Your body freezes even though you know John would never hurt you, even if he were angry.

It’s his turn to relax you, soft touches and reassurances to bring you back. “You are worth everything and more. If you never wanted touched again I’d still love you exactly as much. I want YOU Dave, not just what you can do for me.”

You chew on that idea as his hand slowly stills in your hair; he’s falling back asleep. Eventually he shifts onto his back and you cling to him, face smushed into his shoulder. The rest of the night passes by with you dozing, imagining alarming noises, and thinking entirely too much. Your mind refuses to fall back into a deep sleep, frightened of the dreams you know are waiting for you there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	3. Things You Said While I Was Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave walks in on Karkat crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General Audiences
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **No Archive Warnings Apply** , Internalized Victim Blaming, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Sburb/Sgrub

Dave hated crying more than he could express. It felt like losing, like doing something wrong. Like asking for it, whatever it ended up being. People tell him it’s okay nowadays; they hold him and pet him and pity him like a wounded animal. Like a child. It was important to that he cry quietly, or preferably not at all. Dave hid tears like evidence of a crime behind dark glasses and stoic facades.

On the rare occasions that someone caught him at a bad moment (or inadvertently caused a bad moment) he let the reassurances and coddling flow past him like oil over water over the muck at the core of himself where the wretched crying came from. It couldn’t affect him; it couldn’t reach him or change anything. Mostly Dave just felt bad that people felt the need to waste their energy on something he was incapable of even processing, much less accepting or using or _needing_.

This left him, he felt, uniquely unqualified to handle walking in on Karkat sniffling quietly behind his shirt sleeve. It served him right for showing up at Karkat’s place unannounced he supposed, but then it was like the fucking world fucking ended. Karkat’s face, ever expressive, went from shock, to painfully intense fear, to frightening anger before Dave could even react. A growling, guttural snarl made every single hair on Dave’s body stand on end and he froze, stupid monkey brain instinctively expecting a tiger and doing the absolute most useless thing in response.

Instead of lunging at him and ripping him apart with his teeth and claws Karkat cringed and hid his face with one arm while flailing the other toward a pile of laundry. The white undershirt he grabbed first was quickly discarded in favor of a black towel that he used to scrub his face clean. After a few seconds Dave unfroze and cautiously crept forward. Karkat wasn’t cleaning his face anymore, just hiding in the towel and putting holes in it with his claws.

“Um.” Dave was eloquent. This was fucking awkward though, no one could blame him for being at a loss for words. Karkat had been genuinely scary for a moment.

“Fuck OFF Dave.” His voice was slightly muffled by the towel but the frustration still came through loud and clear.

“I’ll totally do that if you really want me to but if I can like, you know, comfort you or whatever I’d prefer that. You uh, you seemed pretty pissed for a second there, and now too I guess. Did I… do something?”

“No, of course not! Not a fucking thing, except just appear out of goddamn nowhere right at the moment I’m smearing my disgusting face fluids all over myself.”

“I don’t care if you’re crying dude.” Dave’s stomach turned over when Karkat peeked around the towel just enough to glare at him. “I mean, no, I super care if you’re crying but like in a ‘it’s okay to be sad sometimes’ kind of way. It’s like pooping dude, everybody cries I guess. Wow, that’s kinna gross, sorry.” His face felt hot with shame at being so bad at this and also at the idea that it might have been somewhat his fault.

Karkat threw his towel to the floor, looking disgusted. “It’s nothing. I’m just having stupid reactions to stupid bullshit that isn’t even a thing anymore. I mean, why the fuck should I flip out about you seeing my tears when you’ve had my slurry in your mouth? I’m just being a sponge damaged moron, per-fucking-usual.”

“Uhh, I don’t really get the connection you’re making unless you’re trying to tell me that trolls cry jizz in which case thank you for the biology lesson that I will be bleaching from my brain at the earliest possible moment.”

“Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE, no! Just. Look.” Karkat grabbed a tissue and rubbed his eye hard before displaying it to him. It was stained pink.

“Thaaat doesn’t super answer my question about jizz tears. Your stuff is also kinna-” Karkat pushed Dave’s shoulder hard enough that it kind of hurt. “Ow! Hey! I’m sorry! I just still don’t know what you’re trying to communicate here!”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. It’s my fucking blood color, asshole.” He was more animated now, emphasizing his frustration by waiving his soggy pink tissue like a flag. “It taints pretty much everything about me including any kind of disgusting liquids my body decides to inflict upon the world. People seeing that shit would have gotten me culled on Alternia.” Karkat drew into himself, away from Dave. Everything seemed to make a horrible kind of sense all of a sudden.

“People would have hurt you if they saw you cry.”

“That’s what I just said. But it’s not a thing now, and I threatened you, and I need to just… get the fuck over myself.”

All the bullshit that people said to Dave when he cried, all the stuff he though he wasn’t listening to, came flooding back to him. It all seemed so true when applied to Karkat, when Karkat was saying the same sorts of things about himself that Dave beat himself up with as well.

He folded himself around Karkat, cautiously repeating all the things he’d been told on the rare occasions someone tried to comfort him, and found that he had remembered more of it that he thought possible. Dave realized that if it was going to mean anything coming from him that it had to mean something going the other way too. That he had to let it mean something.

Dave held onto Karkat and forced himself to at least consider believing in what people said when he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	4. Things You Said Through Your Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and Karkat fail to makeout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **No Archive Warnings Apply** , Quadrant Confusion, Post-Sburb/Sgrub

He could see Dave getting mad, delicately pale skin going pink from ears to neck. He could see the explosion coming and snapped his teeth on a snarl he didn’t mean. (Didn’t want to mean.)

“I’m not a flower or a- or a goddamn water balloon!” Dave tried to scramble onto his knees but they’d only gotten his pants down around his thighs before Karkat had hit the brakes. “You seriously think you need to baby me?! We all know I’m not some delicate, blushing virgin so why can’t-”

Dave grabbed Karkat’s arm and pulled so hard that either he was going up or Karkat was going down. He managed to brace himself enough that Dave accomplished the former.

“-You JUST-”

Karkat started growling in spite of himself.

“-FUCK ME?!”

He gritted his teeth together until they ached and managed to hiss “Because I don’t fucking hate you like that, Dave!” Every instinct told him to throw Dave off him, (throw him down on the bed, give him what he thinks he wants.) Instead Karkat pulled away and Dave let him go, looking more sullen than angry.

“If you want to test the boundaries of what you’re okay with that’s one thing, but this feels a lot like you’re just trying to give me something because you think I want it and I’m not okay with that! I’ve told you before I’m not okay with it.”

Dave scowled even harder. “So it IS something you want? And what, you just think I’m not up to it?”

“Maybe it IS something I want sometimes! But it doesn’t matter if I think you’re up to it because I don’t want that kind of relationship with you!” Karkat gestured tight and sharp, frustrated but mindful of how close Dave was.

“Oh for- I’m not trying to become your kismetfish or whatever the fuck, I’m just not going to DIE if you bite me." Without shades to hide behind or the wherewithal to pretend at having 'cool' Dave was shockingly expressive when he was mad; lack of proper sclera made up for by his eyebrows, blood tinged skin, and over-bright eyes. "If this is about your quadrant bullshit, we’re already mate-rails. I’m not weak! Let me challenge you sometimes.”

Karkat cursed under his breath, and again over his breath. Fucking humans, mixing everything up like it was no big deal. Like Dave’s skin wasn’t translucent enough to show off every vein and artery. Like people haven’t hurt and hurt and hurt him thoroughly enough in the past. The thought of putting his claws through Dave’s skin made him sick, but the possibility that Dave would want that with him… No, two quadrants was enough.

_You keep wanting everyone in every quadrant like an idiot and it ruins everything.  
_

Karkat’s long silence made Dave turn away, shame faced and deflated. “Not right now but… Can you think about it? Can we talk about it later? I think we might be thinking about things differently and I just… It’s not just for you, okay? And it’s not just me trying to figure out triggers or whatever, I actually want. Something. I don’t know.”

An almost painful sigh escaped his lungs as Karkat deflated too. “Yeah. Sure, we can think and talk later. Not that we’re actually any good at either of those things. Just, not when we’re…” Karkat gestured at their half undressed bodies.

“Yeah. That’s- Yeah, sorry.” Dave adjusted his boxers and took his pants the rest of the way off. “D’you wanna, like, cuddle?” He sounded so tentative that Karkat marveled at the fact he could have felt even a spark of black for the same person not 5 minutes ago.

“Yes, nerd, we can cuddle. Let’s watch a movie or something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	5. Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro's POV for a [snippet](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com/post/139676110923/bro-pulled-away-and-leaned-back-on-the-futon-a) from [Take a Breath, My Heart, and Hold Your Tongue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4221819).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **Rape/Noncon, Underage** , Incest, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Grooming, Unreliable Narrator, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, POV Switch, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub

Bro pulled away and leaned back on the futon a bit. Playing with his bro’s talented little mouth had already worked him up to full mast and a drowsy blowjob seemed like an ideal way to wake up for whatever this field trip bullshit was. Soft hair fell over his fingertips as Bro slid his hand along the back of the kid's thin neck and pressed him down. He went softly, almost eagerly as he scrambled on hands and knees to situate himself on the futon.

When he was done settling in Bro guided his well practiced hand to the base of his cock. Handjobs were already old hat between them but Bro still admired the way small nail bitten fingers looked around it, the way they gripped it perfectly. The keening, whining noise he made ripped the last vestiges of sleep from Bro’s mind and sent his libido into overdrive. The kid knew what those little wanting noises did to him but Bro loved listening to him play it up, loved knowing that despite token shows of resistance for Strider vanity’s sake that his pretty boy was exactly as depraved and fucked up as he was, if not more-so.

This really wasn’t the time for petulant little displays though, someone could get bitten on accident or something, so when the tip of his cock brushed teasingly closed lips Bro generously decided to give him a little encouragement. “Come on, open your mouth again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	6. So Many Quadrants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat attempts sloppy make outs with two entire boys.
> 
> Karkat's POV for a [snippet](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com/post/140204736478/johns-kisses-turned-open-mouthed-and-lingering) from [chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3236942/chapters/7093733) of [It's Not Weird (Except When It Is)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3236942/chapters/7050842).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **No Archive Warnings Apply** , Quadrant Confusion, Sloppy Makeouts, POV Switch, Post-Sburb/Sgrub

John looked right at him while he worked Dave up; the unbearable asshole was clearly showing off. A while ago Karkat stopped assuming John put any thought whatsoever into how the pile of irritating bullshit he called a personality practically screamed _I want you to bite my stupid sexy face off_. Sometimes, though, there was no way he could be going for anything else. That provocation contrasted with how he seemed to be _presenting_ Dave; all pale skin and bared throat - light, quick breathing and loose open posture. Offered. Passive. _Prey_. John grinned with his lips and teeth on _Karkat’s_ delicate human’s skin and seemed to dare him to do something about it.

It took a lot of self control but Karkat managed to suppress a possessive, combative growl. Fighting over which one of them could make Dave come in his pants seemed incredibly stupid; the clear and obvious winner would be Dave. John was using Dave to get to him… Dave with his slightly parted lips already pink from before… Karkat threw the last shred of his dignity to the wind and pounced. John did something and Dave made helpless gasping noises that Karkat swallowed and kept. It was humiliating to feel this pale for someone he wanted to pail, and infuriating that someone with all the subtlety of a swung hammer made him feel this way.

Eventually Dave seemed to gather the scattered shreds of his already meager thinksponge and actively participate again. His blunt human claws wound through Karkat’s hair and made him reconsider the idea that John was the only one fucking with quadrant boundaries on purpose. John had caused Dave to tip his chin up, the height of pale trust, but now Dave had his hand around Karkat’s _horn_ , scratching the base softly. Apparently humans just naturally gravitated toward filthy rails with pails tropes, fantastic. If only his traitorous bulge would let him feel properly scandalized instead of obscenely turned on.

The way Dave kissed him was sweet, almost shy, and for a moment a voice in the back of Karkat’s head fretted, ‘ _he’s actually pale for you, he doesn’t want this,you’re fucked up and **gross**._ ’ When Dave pulled away fear lanced through him before Dave could gasp, “Can we please have less clothes? Karkat, I need your shirt off right now. I need this because of reasons.”

Well that… wasn’t exactly pale. It also didn’t make a lot of sense that anyone would _need_ to have any part of his mutant carcass unclothed. Karkat complied even though he highly doubted the ‘reasons’ were at all sound. Actual Nub Fondler John Egbert took the opportunity to grope him, of fucking course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	7. Working

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro's POV for a [snippet](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com/post/140817287283/bro-came-down-his-throat-and-pulled-him-off-his) from [Don't Make It Weird](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3275906).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Explicit
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **Rape/Noncon, Underage** , Incest, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Grooming, Forced Prostitution, Underage Prostitution, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Anal Sex, Unreliable Narrator, Mind Manipulation, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub

After that little scene Bro half expected the kid to keep throwing fits, started thinking about what he’d have to say to this guy if they needed to bail. The whole thing made him a bit sick to his stomach frankly, he really didn’t want to be here. Dave was _his_ ; having to hang around awkwardly while someone else touched him was miserable. Esoteric end of the world bullshit didn’t give a fuck though; they needed a hell of a lot more money than they had, so here they were. It was fine. After having his little power trip and getting his way (at Bro’s expense no less) the kid ending up being a natural.

Bro’s memory was fuzzy at the best of times, but he couldn’t have been _much_ older than Dave the first time he’d peddled ass. His little bro was lucky; lucky he had someone screening for violent psychos, lucky to have someone willing to stick around. That lucky streak continued to hold out for him; this dude he’d found seemed to think every little thing Dave did was the best thing ever. Brat was gonna get spoiled rotten.

The man flipped Dave onto his stomach and his red, naked eyes fell on Bro. Dave reached his hand out pleadingly, much too far away to touch him but fingers still visibly straining like an extra millimeter would make the difference. Something unfamiliar twisted in Bro’s gut. A very weak, nearly strangled voice in the back of his head quietly said “ _This isn’t okay._ ”

Another much stronger and more familiar internal voice overrode it and replaced his uncomfortable queasiness with irritation. “ _Of course it’s not okay; you don’t want this to be happening. You never wanted any of this bullshit. Everything would be much better. If_ you _were the hero. This weak child. Is unworthy. And now he dares. To make you feel bad. For doing what you must. To win the game._ ”

During his momentary distraction the guy smoothed his hand along the kid’s pale outstretched arm, following the line of it to meet Bro’s impassive face. “Ha, I think he wants you man.”

Bro shrugged, giving nothing away.

“You know,” His tone was wheedling. “I wouldn’t exactly be opposed to sharing him. I bet you two look good together.”

His little brother’s fingers curled in Bro’s sheets, eyes still fixed on him. The computer chair squeaked when Bro stood up and the bed groaned and dipped under his weight when knelt on it. He expected little hands to cling to him as soon as he came in range, but they maintained their white knuckled grip on the fabric instead.

After unzipping and pulling himself out of his boxers it didn’t take much attention before he was hard and ready to go. The guy didn’t even try to hide his avid interest in Bro’s equipment. A gloved hand wound itself through his little dude’s messy white hair, and he used the other to stroke himself showily before stopping.

“This impromptu performance is going to cost extra.”

A tortured groan escaped the guy’s chest. “Yes, fuck, fine. Just do it already.”

Bro tightened his grip on his trembling kid’s hair and pulled him out of his huddle. Even in this new situation habit seemed to take over; Bro only needed to steer him into the right position before he opened his mouth pliantly. The last thing Bro wanted to do was pay attention to whatever this stranger was up to, so instead he focused on the feeling of lips and tongue working around his cock. That focus helped with the performance aspect of it too; Bro rolled his hips smoothly in time with the guy rocking into his pretty boy, who squeaked and moaned on cue.

It was satisfying; he felt distantly proud to know that his Dave still responded the way he’d been taught even with someone else in the scene. He even remembered to cover his bottom teeth with his tongue, allowing Bro to push deep into his throat. Not for the first time, he imagined himself fucking a warm, living puppet and bit the inside of his cheek as he came. Bro held his sweet little thing still and let him swallow around his cock until the aftershocks faded.

It wasn’t until he pulled the kid up and looked at his face that he noticed tears pouring from his vacant, doll-like eyes. Bro’s irritation from earlier made a reappearance and he discarded the praise he’d planned to give.

“Stop crying.” His eyes continued watering shamefully and Bro watched him blink slowly before dropping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


	8. Maximum Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Hal have a chat on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Mature
> 
> Relationships: Dirk/Hal
> 
> Warnings & Tags: **No Archive Warnings Apply** , Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Discussion of Pedophilia, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
> 
> Loosely connected to a RP involving a mash-up of my "Is This Weird?" 'verse and KathGaele's ["Tight Pants and Maximum Angst"](http://archiveofourown.org/series/357800) 'verse. [The RP log can be found here](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com/post/134402553638/oh-shit-theres-two-of-them-rpdocx) but reading it is not necessary for understanding the ficlet.

You’re dangling your feet over ledge of the roof, sitting a bit closer to the edge than is strictly necessary or wise, when you hear the door open behind you. It’s weird looking out and seeing a city instead of endless ocean. It’s weird having your miserable solitude interrupted this way, though it’s not weird for Hal to be the one interrupting it.

“What are you doing out here, Dirk?” He seems wary and it puts you on edge, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. That’s not a claim he makes very often anymore, much more focused on highlighting his independence than your sameness, but he still WAS you at one point.

“I could ask you the same question. How’d you know where to find me?”

“While I may not be the computer on your face anymore, you’re still wearing a computer on your face. I can’t not know where you are at any given moment.”

“Keeping tabs on me? That’s not creepy.”

Hal sighs, more emotive than you’re comfortable being. You know he can’t really control it, his body directly interfaces with his emotions and it’s still new to him, but you can’t help feeling a bit resentful. He repeats himself, sounding more weary than wary. “What are you doing up here?”

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes focused on the unsettlingly dry and populated horizon. “I’m training, obviously. Can’t you see the rad new moves I’m busy mastering? You’re breaking my flow here dude, it’s unmannerly.”

“That’s me, just a bunch of rude gestures and social blunders stuffed in a reinforced burlap sack.” He’d been creeping up on you throughout the conversation and chooses to sit cross legged next to and a bit behind you.

You glance at him and then down to the street many stories below, immune to vertigo. “What’s up? Not a fan?”

“Not right at this moment, no. Dirk, come on.”

“What?! I’m just thinking. I’m still fucking allowed, right? Even if you’re apparently not predicting all my thoughts anymore which, honestly, it’d be a lot easier if you would right now. Quietly, to yourself, and respond to them yourself too. Again, quietly. And leave me to my slow, meaty process.”

“It seems that you’re being a huge asshole right now.” Hal sounds riled up, eyes bright and angry. Good, maybe he’ll leave you alone if you piss him off badly enough. “You know I was bullshitting most of my ability to think exactly like you.” Instead of storming off he sighs even more heavily, and you notice that he’s sitting near enough that you can feel his breath on your shoulder.

The tension headache that has been threatening you all morning blooms painfully behind your eyes. “Can’t you just… take a hint and give me a little space?”

“I'm afraid I can't do that, Dirk." You grimace, but he continues. "Maybe I do know a little bit about what you might be thinking. It’s at least enough to know that leaving you on a rooftop all by yourself probably isn’t the best plan.”

“Best for who?” The words slip through your teeth without your permission, bitter and hostile.

Hal’s breath catches in his throat and you turn your face away from him, not wanting to see his expression even out of the corner of your eye. You can, unfortunately, still hear him though. “All that stuff that happened with Dave, it’s not your fault.”

You surprise yourself with a mocking, indelicate snort, the disgust forcing itself out of your gut too thick for regular laughter. “‘With Dave,’ don’t you mean _to_ him? You heard what he said. What that disgusting, perverted other version of _myself_ did to him.” You shift your weight on the ledge and hear Hal move, but choose to ignore it for now.

“Dirk, that wasn’t you. If you actually did listen to what Dave said then you heard him say he didn’t want you blaming yourself for that!”

You refuse to look at him. You don’t even want to think about what’s actually bothering you, much less say it out loud.

Hal’s voice is starting to take on a panicked edge you don’t like. “It’s _not_ your fault. Weren’t you paying attention at all? It was the fucking puppet, influencing him. It was Caliborn and-,” He cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. “It was us. It was _me_ , not you. It was my-.”

“Stop.” You turn to see an incredible look of pain on Hal’s face, his circuits trailing light down his cheek like falling tears. “You don’t believe that.”

“I was there, not some different from birth genetic match, _I_ was there. How could I have let it happen? If I had any influence, any control at all, I don’t understand how…” He’s so close now that his knee is almost touching your hip, but you can’t bring yourself to reach out to him. You curl your arms around your churning stomach instead.

“You don’t know Hal, you can’t know. Maybe you didn’t have any control at all, or maybe you did help. He survived, right? Even with a murder clown and an impulsive, genocidal, tantrum throwing freak pulling the strings he made it through. Maybe that was you.”

“I feel guilty for wanting to know.” Now it’s Hal who won’t look at you. “When he asked me if I’d been the one in the puppet he was so scared, and seemed so relieved to learn I wasn't. Another part of me doesn’t want to know at all, doesn’t even want to think about it. Even with my processing power I can’t imagine what it would have been like, eons inescapably fused together like something out of the darkest Steven Universe fic.” A visible shudder runs through his body and you wish you felt up to touching him, even if you’re the absolute worst at comfort.

The two of you sit quietly for a while, Hal deflated and sad, you teetering on the edge. Of both confession and the roof, wondering which fall would hurt less.

When Hal finally speaks again, it's very soft. “Dirk, please talk to me. What are you doing out here?”

“What if it was me?” Your voice is flat, distant sounding like you’re hearing it from another room. “What if-.”

“Dirk.” He sounds firm, almost commanding. “You can’t tell me it wasn’t my fault AND take the blame yourself. You don’t know how much control he had any better than I know how much control that other Hal had.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Caliborn hated sex, he _only_ liked fluff. Dave called himself a _whore_ while sitting at our kitchen table, said himself that his Bro _did more_ beyond just weird, overly sexual cuddling.” Your voice is climbing in volume, emotion pouring out of you like bile. It’s entirely out of your control but your chill has fucked off to parts unknown, perhaps for good.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Hal reaching over to touch you and you shy away from it, denying yourself reassurance you don’t deserve. His eyes go wide but he keeps his hands to himself. “You would never, you know better than-.”

“Do I?! Do I REALLY? How old do you think Dave was when it started, Hal? Neither of us asked. Neither of us had to, isn’t that right? The Beta session started when they were 13. He was prepubescent, a little kid, and that monstrous,” You chew on the word, sputtering before you can finally spit it out. “Horrible _pedophile_ hurt him. His own kid. MY kid, mine and Roxy’s. What if I’m… What if I…” You lean forward over your knees, sick with horror at yourself, at the possibility you could sexually abuse a child, that you might ever want to.

“ _Dirk!_ ” Hal’s voice is sharp but you shake your head, curling further in on yourself before Hal throws his arms around your waist as fast as blinking and literally snatches you away from the ledge.

You had no idea you were that close to plummeting to the ground below. Then again, it’s only when a pitiful keen claws its way from your throat that you realize you’re crying. Hal drags you a good few feet from the edge of the roof, his arms wrapped around you like steel bars. His voice shakes while he berates you. “Dapper Jesus tap dancing in a top hat _Christ_ , Dirk Strider, don’t you ever fucking do that, don’t you _ever_. You don’t even have your shitty rocket board on you, we both could have gone over the side and then where would we be? Oh my god, I’m having a heart attack, my brand new heart is fucking ruined. I need to lie down.” And he does, right there on the roof, dragging you down with him. His arms have only gotten tighter around you, but you can’t tell if it’s interfering with your breathing because it seems like all you can manage are shallow, sobbing gasps anyway.

Heat is pouring off of Hal’s body, just on the edge of painful. It doesn’t matter if it burns you; you’d welcome that at this point. You’d probably even welcome the quick way down to street level if Hal hadn’t implied that you’d be dragging him with you. Hal’s sprawl has you laying half on top of him, arms locked around you like a safety belt. The tone of his nonstop rambling shifts as he calms and cools down.

“Dirk, you aren’t a goddamn pedophile, do you hear yourself? Don’t you think I’d know something like that? That’s some ingrained brain chemistry shit, we’d both be attracted to kids if that were the case and I’m certainly not.” He lets you curl up on your side, shifting so that he’s spooned behind you and his breath comes out hot against the back of your neck.

“We’re barely 18, how would we know? What if it’s something that surfaces later in life?” You can hardly speak; every word is high and wheezy like you’re breathing through a straw. “And you don’t _have_ brain chemistry anymore, you’d probably be fine. I’m the one who would… I won’t be the second coming of Humbert Humbert in a whole new universe, I _won’t_ , I’ll die first.”

You’re jarred from expounding on your declaration by Hal shaking you hard enough that you accidentally bite your lip. “Stop it! Stop it right now. You’re not dying, you’re not hurting any kids, and you’re not going to keep torturing yourself like this. It’s ridiculous. Do you seriously think I’d _let you_ abuse a child?”

“Apparently, in another universe, you already did.”

You know it’s a mistake, you know you don’t mean it even as you say it. Hal still gasps and flinches away from you as though hit. Again you hope he leaves, but again you’re disappointed. His arms aren’t wrapped as painfully tight around you but he still seems intent on the whole anchor thing. A tiny, not-an-asshole portion of your brain appreciates it even as you work at driving him away.

It takes less than a minute of heavy, hurt silence for you apologize, sniffling and shivering pathetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You told me what was bothering you and I threw it back in your face. That’s so unacceptable. And… I know you wouldn’t let me, if there were any way to protect… you’d do everything you could.”

Hal holds himself tense for a few seconds after your apology before relaxing against your back. “Dirk…” He sounds as miserable as you feel, though more frustrated than your overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. “I wasn’t finished before. I wouldn’t let you, but my intervention wouldn’t be necessary because _you_ wouldn’t let you either.”

The tears have stopped but it’s still difficult to breathe past the invisible weight compressing your lungs. It makes your voice very small. “He did though. The way Dave talked about it; it sounded like a slow escalation, like boiling a frog.”

“You AREN’T him, Dirk Strider. You just aren’t. We have no idea of why he did what he did. I pulled the data while you’ve been sulking; the vast majority of childhood sexual abuse is perpetrated by opportunists who have zero innate attraction to children. There is no evidence that you’re a pedophile, and even if you were,” You attempt to jerk yourself away from him but he holds fast. “Dirk, _even if you were_ that doesn’t mean you’d hurt anyone.”

You growl “Hal I swear to god,” but he talks over you.

“You’re attracted to people who aren’t me, that doesn’t mean you’d cheat on me! You’re attracted to _me_. Look at me; do I look like a child to you? For god’s sake, I know for a fact that you’re attracted to Mr. Egbert.” You try to elbow him but he’s relentless. “If anyone needs to worry about predatory adults it’s your barely legal twink ass.”

Your prayers for a quick death by freak lightening strike from a cloudless sky go unanswered and you groan miserably into your hands. Hal finally lifts one arm from his paranoid hold on you and runs his fingers soothingly through your hair. It would upset you but there’s already roof grit in it so whatever. It still doesn’t feel like you deserve any measure of comfort but Hal is slowly breaking you down, making you crave it even more. You barely hear yourself whisper behind the shield of your hands, “I’m scared.”

The words are out and you don’t even have time to hope that Hal didn’t hear you before he’s coaxing you onto your back and then your other side, facing him. The heat coming off your face feels like it could rival Hal’s earlier emotional distress induced temperature spike.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone.” Hal sounds so sincere, but you can’t not scoff. “I’m serious Dirk, you’re not. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re older now. You learned a lot about how to interact with people during the game, those kinds of mistakes aren’t going to happen again. And anyway,” He looks uncomfortable but seems to push past it. “You don’t have me egging you on and jealously trying to live through you anymore. I was just as bad, if not worse. We were kids. We pretty much still are. Neither of us have ever done anything in the same order of magnitude as abusing a child.” His fingers move back to your hair and you feel tension bleeding out of you no matter how hard you try to hold onto your misery. “Forget you and me, do you really think Roxy would stand by and let either of us run amok? Or Jane? You’ve got the kind of support and accountability that Dave’s Bro never had.”

“This is going to end up being some dumb morality tale about how I need to let myself accept help from others, I can feel it.” All of the energy drained out of you with the fear, leaving you with a heavy sadness that feels like being filled with soft lead. It gnaws at you for a few silent moments before you speak again. “Hal, he hurt Dave. Our Dave, how could anyone…” Hal seems startled and almost pleased for some reason, but that quickly morphs into something significantly darker.

“No one is ever going to get away with hurting him like that ever again.” The cold venom in his voice is almost shocking; Hal suddenly seems markedly inhuman. His eyes glow as he looks into yours and says “ _ours_ ” in a voice that brooks no argument. You’re not sure of what to do with that, so you set it aside to deal with at a future date if necessary. No way that could ever backfire.

It feels nicer to be held than you want to admit, even to yourself. That you’re doing it on a dirty rooftop after an unintentional suicide attempt with your robot doppelganger is just your typical Strider flare.

“So anyway,” Hal sits up and drags you with him. The amount of grit sticking to you didn’t seem terrible until you could feel it grind into your skin as you move. Brushing it off is hard with Hal _still_ holding on to you. “The moral of the story is-.”

The edge of the building calls you; you look longingly over your shoulder at what could have been and sigh forlornly like the heroine of a pulp romance novel. Hal shakes you a bit more gently this time. “Dirk, please. Tasteless suicide jokes aside, did you need to stay up here for anything or could we maybe move this snuggle party to a venue with actual furniture?”

There is an enormous amount of information from this conversation for you to mull over, and knowing Hal he’s not going to drop it until you agree with or refute his arguments. “I guess the indoors would be nice, I need to think.”

“What, no, that’s what caused this whole mess. Surely you can just give up thinking.”

“Sorry bro, can’t quite kick the habit no matter how hard I try.”

You don’t exactly feel lighter, or even any better per se, but the gripping fear that originally drove you to the roof to look for clarity has eased up a bit. Hal pulls you with him into the building and you wonder if he’ll keep an arm around you even when you’re back in your apartment.

You wonder if you’ll mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tsunamayo Makizushi's Writing Tumblr](http://tsunamayo-makizushi.tumblr.com)


End file.
